Dark As Pitch
by Southern Trip
Summary: Professor Xavier gets the inside scoop from his contact at the NYPD. Loaded with Prof X, Remy, Cyclops, and Logan. Please read and review! Chapter Two up!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: John Sullivan and Ty Davis are owned by the Third Watch people, and the X-Men are owned by Marvel. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.

    It was going to be a good day; Professor Charles Xavier could feel it. It was nothing concrete, just a gut feeling telling him the next twenty-four hours were going to be unmistakingly pleasant. He may have possessed a number of telepathic talents, but none of them were prophetic in nature. He supposed it might not have anything to do with his gut at all; it was highly likely that his belief came from the assumption that the universe owed him one good day after so many that continually tried his patience.

    He had parked his technologically advanced wheelchair in front of the bay window that comprised the entire north wall of his office, with his expansive mahogony desk and entrance to his private sanctuary at his back. It was the kind of day that reminded him of why he fought so hard for his Dream, despite how unattainable it sometimes seemed. The noon day sun shone down from a spotless blue sky, hitting the substantial grounds before the Professor in such a way as to make his heart beat just a little faster in his chest. To call the day gorgeous, with the grass such a stunning shade of green, the limbs of massive trees swaying gently in the subtle breeze, the sunlight glinting off the calm waters of the tranquil pond roughly twenty feet from the mansion, would be a gross understatement. Breathtaking would be a more apt description. The Professor knew his opinion was somewhat biased; after all, the three story red brick mansion and surrounding property was under his name. But he knew that if not for the forty seven other lives that more or less shared the estate with him, he would not find the display so enticing. His mood was frequently determined by the lives of those under his care. For the first time in a long while, there were no problems to be sorted out, no danger threatening his young charges, no squabbles breaking out between those so similar yet at the same time so different. Even his inbox was remarkabley empty. His peace of mind surprised him; after all, he was a mere two days away from the bi-annual event of Visitation Night, the special time designated for loved ones of the students to join them. Naturally, family and friends were encouraged to visit at anytime, but the school's faculty were otherwise rarely available for an informal interview. For two nights out of the school year, their only priority was to answer parents and guardians questions. It was a night that was stressful on all those involved, but not only was it necessary, it was highly rewarding once it was over.

    A soft knock at the mahogony door startled him from his thoughts, and he immediately frowned. It was rare that a presence outside his door surprised arguably the most powerful mutant on Earth; the fact that this announcement had only served to show him how deep in his thoughts he had been. He felt the gentle, caring tendrils reach out to him from the mind of his protoge, Dr. Jean Grey. He greeted her with a psychic smile, and turned his attention to the pair of minds he felt accompanying her. The first was certainly not as familiar as Jean was to him, but not at all foreign at the same time. A friend. He sensed no famaliarity in the second mind, but could not detect any malice either. Only an and a touch of nervousness.

    This psychic exchange took place in less time than it took Charles to call out, "come in." Spoken words were not necessary between he and Jean, who also had some degree of ability in telepathy, but soundless exchanges had a way of disconcerting those not accustomed to their world.

    The door opened, and Jean stepped in, looking resplendent as always, in a soft yellow sundress that fell just above her knees, highlighting both her long, lean legs, and enhancing the blazing redness of her elbow length wavy hair. She smiled warmly at him, then stepped aside to allow entrance to the mansion's guests. After all those years, the dark blue of the NYPD uniform still bloomed a great sense of respect deep within the Professor, despite the fact that he easily had fifteen years on the older of the two. The first of the two officers was a man Charles had come to know well over time, a beat veteran John Sullivan. They had developed an easy friendship, and John, or Sully, as he preferred to be called, had quickly become the school's contact with the police department. It had been several weeks since they had spoken, and Charles was relieved to see him looking healthy and well. The second officer, who stood slightly behind Sully, was a good six inches taller than the older man, considerably leaner, and had the word 'rookie' stamped all over him. His chocolate brown eyes were warm and intelligent, and Charles took an immediate liking to him.

Sully and his partner thanked Jean, who excused herself with a wink in the Professor's direction, before ducking out of the office.

"It's good to see you again, Sully,"Charles spoke up. "It's been too long. Please, have a seat."

He accepted, and lowered himself into the first of two brown leather wing back chairs facing the desk. "You got that right, Charles. This is my partner, Ty."

    The younger man hadn't moved from his position just inside the door. He nodded in greeting, but made no further move to include himself. Sully saw and interpreted the question forming on Charles' lips, and nodded in response. "Yup, he's Tyrone's son. Just got out of the academy a week ago."

The Professor's eyebrows rose in surprise. "The resemblance is remarkable."

Sully chuckled softly. "Yeah, he's just as bull-headed as his old man, too."

    "Look, fellas,"Ty spoke up suddenly. He came around Sully's chair, and slumped down in the second. "As much as I love listening to you two talk about me like I'm not here, I don't think we came all this way to discuss the similarities between my father and I."

Sully and Charles shared a look, and it was then that the Professor first noticed the thick manilla envelope tucked under Sully's arm.

    "He's right,"Sully said, pulling the envelope out and setting in on the desk top. "I stumbled across something that might be of interest to you."

The Professor's curiousity peaked immediately. Over the years they had been friends, Sully had sent six seperate cases Charles' way, all incidents of confused and helpless mutants being mistaken for common criminals. Sully slid the envelope across the desk, and Charles accepted it, pulling a small stack of papers from it.

"Ty and I handled the arrest of a suspected arson perp three days ago. The circs definitely seemed suspicious."

    The police report in Charles' hands was filled with officer jargon, some of which he understood, and some of which was way over his head. He was able to ascertain reasonabley easy, however, that the suspect Sully referred to was named Dominick Tucker, he had light brown hair, blue eyes, and he was only a few weeks from eighteen years. Charles set the report back down on the desk just was Sully began his own explanation.

    "Fire was called to a run-down residential area around noon on Monday; we were called in for the usual canvas of the neighbourhood, determine whether it might've been arson, and directing traffic for the engine. Right away we get there and one of the fire fighters, guy named Jimmy, tells me that some of the neighbours have some bizarre accounts of what went down. He pointed out a group of people at the edge of the tape, watching the fire tear that house apart. So I head over there; Ty goes to work on clearing some of the rubber neckers out of the way for the ambulances."

Ty broke in then, and said, "As far as we knew, nobody had been in the house at the time, but they always call the ambulance as a precaution, even if just for the fire guys."

    Sully shot his partner a look, clearly a soft reprimand for interupting his story, then continued on. "As I was saying, I went over to ask the neighbours some questions. They said the couple that lived there, a Mr. and Mrs. George and Rita Mullock, were foster parents for the state, and they had about eight children in their care at the time. Now, they said all the kids should've been in school, but they were positive they saw one of the older boys in the time leading up to the fire."

    Sully took a breath, fidgeted just noticeably, and glanced over at his partner. "This is where it gets kind of bizarre. One of the women that lived on the other side of the street said she was out gardening. She noticed the older boy walk up the path, and enter the house. Apparently this was a common occurence, so she thought nothing of it. She said she went out back to fill up her watering can, but when she came back, the whole first story of the house was ablaze. She swears she could've only been gone three minutes, Charles, and the whole first story, all nine hundred square feet, was burning like there's nothing in it's way. She says she ran back inside, dialed 911. When she went back outside to wait, she noticed the older kid, this Dominick guy, standing on the front lawn watching the house burn. She started to approach him, see if he was alright, but then they both heard screaming from inside the house. The woman says one of the younger girls must've come home from school for lunch, though she didn't remember seeing her."

    Sully paused for a minute, taking a deep, heaving sigh, and rubbing fiercely at his face. When he began again, his voice was softer, more subdued than when he had started. "Before this lady can do anything, Dominick takes off into the house without any warning. He's gone about three minutes, the woman can hear the fire engines coming by the time the windows on the second floor blow-out. She says she was certain they were both dead, but then he comes running out of the house with the little girl in his arms. I checked with their doctor at the hospital after -their medical reports are in that file- but he said that other than a pretty nasty case of smoke inhalation with both kids, and an ugly second degree burn on the boy's arm, they're both remarkabley healthy considering what they've been through."

Charles frowned thoughtfully. "I understand how this might appear to be under my area of expertise, my friend, but this seems to be nothing more than a case of medical marvel."

Sully shook his head emphatically. "No, Professor, I'm not done. There's more. The woman I talked to, she was spooked as hell after all this, white as a ghost, but she told me some interesting things about the way he got out of that house. She said it reminded her of the stories of Moses, the way he parted the seas for his people. She says those flames moved out of the kid's way, that the minute he ran through the door, the entire front hall was clear of fire. Like it moved to get out of his way. I didn't believe her at first, but Charles, you had to have seen her face. She was seriously frightened. I don't think it's possible for a person to fake that kind of fear."

    Charles lifted his shoulders slowy, preparing to let his friend down easily, but clearly neither officer was ready to give up. Ty broke in this time, to both of their surprise. "The fire marshall's report is in there too. He says, on the record, that there was no apparent cause for the fire, to obvious point of origin, no incendiary device. The fire also stayed confined to that one house, not even a piece of ash on either of the houses to each side. The marshall states that it seemed, for all intents and purposes, that the fire started all over the first floor, all at the same time, then spread upwards afterwards. But we all know that's not possible, right? A fire that huge can't stay confined to such a small area. Not without a little help."

Sully took over then, and Charles got the distinct impression that he was being tag teamed.

    "Check out the kid's file. It should be right on the bottom." The Professor found the collection of papers, all apparently typed on a old style typewriter with the Child Services emblem on the top of each page. "The kid's been in foster care since he was about five. He was pulled from five homes by the time he was sixteen, all from one kind of abuse or another. He was put under the care of the Mullocks a week after his sixteenth birthday, and for a while it looked like it was going okay. But then six months ago, reports of abuse started to surface. His teachers at school suspected something, so an investigation was called in. Some of the younger kids in the house told stories of Mr. Mullock going to visit Dominick in the middle of the night, but both foster parents expressly denied any wrong doing, and the case was dropped."

Charles' frown deepened, and he folded his hands on his desk. "So you think this Mr. Tucker is a mutant, and the fire is his doing?"

    "It makes sense,"Sully replied with a shrug. "I mean, maybe he wanted to get back at the Mullocks, maybe the allegations were true. That would explain why he ran in for that little girl and lived."

"And why none of the other houses got torched,"Ty piped in.

    Charles' studied the faces of both men for a long minute, then sighed. "I hope you don't take my skepticism for reluctance to help. If I pursue the matter, and am for whatever reason, wrong, I risk making enemies within the system. And I fear that will do little but hurt my cause."

    "It wouldn't hurt to just visit this kid. See if he's the real McCoy." Charles was reminded of a bulldog's tenacity whenever he dealt with John Sullivan, and it never failed to bring home the belief that it was part of the reason why he was such a good cop.

"You are right, of course. Simply visiting him would not cause any harm. I assume he's at Rikers?"

Sully nodded. "Pending the trial next week. Look, Charles, I really appreciate you doing this. I can't exactly explain why, but I really feel for this kid. You know? I really think he needs someone on his side."

    Charles agreed whole-heartedly, and accompanied the two officers to the front entranceway, where their patrol cruiser was parked next to the steps. Charles again promised Sully that he would do his best to help this boy, but that it would have to wait until tomorrow. Little did the officers know that the Professor had already begun the process to set up a meeting with the mutant. The outside world was not aware that Charles Xavier was a mutant; he had decided several years ago that he could better further his cause from an ambiguous stand point. Even his closest friends outside of the mansion were in the dark about his powers. So Sully and Ty couldn't possibly have known that Charles had already asked Jean telepathically to set up a meeting with the judge responsible for Mr. Tucker's case. They couldn't have known that the minute Charles set eyes upon the police report, he knew this young man was a mutant, the same way he always inexplicably did. They couldn't possibly have felt the illusion of time running out the way Charles did. The condition that his investigation couldn't start until the following day was a rouse. In fact, it was the opposite. Charles wasn't entirely certain that there would be a following day for this boy if they didn't act immediately.

A/N: Okay, So I didn't mention that this was about an original character. Personally, I know I'm less likely to read a story if there's an original character in it. Horrible bias, I know, but it's just the way I am. I hope I intrigued you with this, there is much more to come. Lots of Dominick, Remy, Cyclops, Logan, Prof X, Bobby Drake, and no more Ty or Sully. Please review, whether you enjoyed it or no, I appreciate them.

Also, if anybody knows the circumstances in which Bobby found out he was a mutant, I would love it if you would tell me. I'm not certain how he did, and I want to include it later. Thanks!


	2. Chapter Two

Dominick Tucker was afraid of the dark. Actually, he was afraid of a great deal of things, but darkness just managed to top the list. Outdoors was bad enough, when he was alone and there were shadows and places for people to hide. Inside was another story. Darkened hallways, black rooms, shadowed corners, all were sufficient to send him into the downward spiral that eventually led to a panic attack. He had spent a great deal of time wondering how he could've developed such an intense fear of something so commonplace, but had never come up with any plausible situations. According to Dominick, and most other people on the planet, fear of the dark was saved for young children, and deranged mental patients living in institutions. But Dominick was neither. He was just a seventeen year old kid, two weeks shy of his eighteenth birthday, who in daylight, could take care of himself reasonably well. He knew how to fight, how to start them and end them, and had been doing both for as long as he could remember. He wasn't a large kid, peaking at maybe five seven, soaking wet he weighed only one hundred seventy pounds. But his body was packed with lean, tight, working muscle that wasn't easily noticed under a few layers of clothes. He knew how to handle himself too, which made a difference when one didn't have size on one's side. But it didn't matter how good he had been at solving his own problems before. He couldn't possibly get himself out of the bind he found himself in without outside assistance.

He sat on a saggy old cot, leaning against a cold cement brick wall with a worn, grey, wool blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He was alone; he had been since he'd been thrown into the dark, damp dungeon of a cell he currently found himself in. A stained and cracked toilet stood in the far corner, a sink in equally as good repair was fastened to the wall next to it. Despite his pleas for extra lighting, the cell only contained one bare, exposed lightbulb hung on a two inch chain from the middle of the ceiling. Lighting in this kind of place didn't worry him so much, though. He could even turn off the light to sleep without waking up sweaty and panicking. There wasn't a mirror in the cell, and for that Dominick was greatful. He didn't like to look at images of himself. He knew he was a good looking kid, in the same way that he knew the earth revolves around the sun. Enough people start to tell you something, and eventually you believe it, without ever having seen proof yourself. His light brown hair was longer than he could ever remember it being; he didn't need to look in a mirror to know that. But it wasn't as if barbers were abundant in Riker's Penitentiary. His eyes were bluish grey colour; so non-discript they appeared to change colour depending on the colour he wore. Now, reacting with the dark blue of the prison get-up, they looked washed out, almost void of colour. Much like how Dominick sometimes felt himself.

He was a mutant. At least, that's what he'd been told. He wasn't quite sure yet himself, and he certainly wasn't about to sign anything to that effect. For all he knew, the fire at the Mullocks' house could've been an accident, one of those one time freak calamities that leave everyone's minds boggled. But some how, he knew that it wasn't true. When he'd been standing on the front lawn, staring up at that hateful house, with thousands of horrible memories flitting in and out of his mind, he'd felt the fire. He'd felt it start, and felt it growing as it swept through the first floor, eventually travelling to the second. And then he'd heard that scream...

"Tucker!"

His head shot up even as he was shaking off the chill that came over his body. A prison guard was approaching his cell, swinging his nightstick back and forth in his right hand like a pendulum. In his left hand was the dreaded control box. Barely the size of a Gameboy, it would not be a stretch of the imagination to say that box controlled Dominick's life. Unfortunately for him, he had been arrested at a time when the country's penal system was ill-equiped to deal with felonius mutants. In order to better "control" him, he had been fitted with an experimental mutant supression collar. It was made of heavy metal, and comparable in size to a choker or dog collar. His mutant power was blocked at all times, he could no more light a spark with his fingertips than he could blow the bars off his cell door. Also, with just a push of a button, the collar could deliver a powerful shock designed to render the recipiant helpless and unable to control their motor functions. He had been placed in the heightened security wing; both an id card with a magnetic strip and a four digit pass code were required to gain entrance to his cell. Gone were the days of simple locks and keys.

Dominick immediately stood as the guard stopped in front of the cell door, crossing his hands behind his back. Although he hated giving in to these people, he hated even more the debilitating effects of the shock treatment.

"You got visitors,"the guard barked out, as he busied himself unlocking the door's mechanism.

Dominick's eyebrows nearly disappeared under his hairline. He wanted to ask who would visit a kid like him, but he had learned the day he arrived that the guards don't answer questions. Especially not those asked by "mutie freaks." The swelling in his right eye was just now starting to fade.

Despite the fact that he was quite literally defenseless, the guards all handled him as though he would go off at any minute. Along with the mutant suppression collar, he was hand-cuffed, with a short chain connecting his hands to the cuffs around his ankles. Just in case he decided he wanted to make a run for it.

Most prison visits were conducted outside, in a relatively free range but well fenced in area. Dominick, however, was considered "high risk," and instead was led deeper into the belly of the prison, to a windowless room, about the size his bedroom at the Mullocks' had been, with a conference table and four chairs set up haphazardly around it. Two men were already seated at the table, looking for all the world like they belonged there. The first man, closest to Dominick, smiled warmly at him. He was bald, though by choice or genetics, he couldn't be sure. His eyes were a cool blue, but appeared to house a kindness Dominick rarely saw. He was immediately suspicious. The man was dressed in a well tailored, obviously expensive, navy blue suit with a grey patterned tie. The younger man, sitting farthest from Dominick and his accompanying guard, looked like he stepped out of an eighties sci-fi movie. He wore a kind of visor, that wrapped around the front of his face and covered his eyes with red glass. Dominick could see what looked like a dial of some kind on the left side, just above the guy's ear, but couldn't hazard a guess as to what it was for. He had boring brown hair, and style wize, he could've fit right in with the models for a prep school uniform catalogue.

"You got ten minutes,"the guard said, pushing Dominick down into a chair opposite the two men. "And no funny stuff."

Dominick smirked at the guard's back. He may be a mutant, but he wasn't a magician. There wasn't much that qualified as "funny stuff" that he could accomplish being chained up like he was. He focused his attention on the two men before him, narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied them closely. He couldn't read them as well as he would've liked, Baldy looked genuine, but there really was no telling. And Dominick didn't have a hope of reading One Eye without being able to see his eyes.

"So, what, are you two my lawyers, or something?"

"Have they been treating you alright?"the younger one asked, as if Dominick hadn't said a word. The stranger seemed to be taking an uncommon interest in Dominick's slow to fade black eye.

He shrugged. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

This did not seem to be a suitable answer, as One Eye exchanged what appeared to be a concerned glance with Baldy, then shook his head slowly, as if disappointed with the downward spiral of the country's sense of humanity. Baldy turned back to face Dominick, and smiled gently. "My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is my associate, Scott Summers. We come from Xavier's School For the Gifted."

"Am I supposed to know what that is?"he asked, raising an eyebrow. Without waiting for a response, he abruptly changed focus. "Why are you here?"

"We know what you are,"Scott said, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. "We want to help you."

Dominick held his stare for a long minute, unflinching, despite the runaway pounding of his heart, then scoffed and looked away. "You want to help me? No offense, but if you aren't my lawyers, how the hell are you gonna help me? I'm in prison, for God's sake."

"We've noticed,"Scott said wryly, earning himself a sharp look from the Professor. "We know about the fire that burned down the house of your foster parents."

If at all possible, Dominick's gaze turned colder. "Yeah, so? I'm sure it was on the news. Local for sure, if not statewide. That kinda stuff always gets people's attention. Generous, well-to-do foster parents that take in the kids society doesn't want to deal with lose everything they own in a sudden accidental fire. It's tragic, really." His tone suggested he felt otherwise, but he certainly wasn't giving anything away. Scott leaned closer, and said in a hushed voice, "but it wasn't an accident, was it? We both read your file from Child Services. I think you wanted to make them suffer, you wanted them to lose everything. Am I right?"

Dominick had paled slightly, but otherwise showed no reaction to his words. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about. I'm not a freak."

Scott's lips pressed together in a thin white line, and he shook his head. "I never said you were a freak. But I do think you're a mutant. Like I am."

The younger man laughed softly, though it was a sound completely without mirth. "You're a mutant? What's your power?"

Scott raised one hand to his visor, and tapped the dial with one finger. "Optic enery blasts. I have to wear this visor to control them. You didn't think I wore it because I thought it looked cool, did you?"

Dominick didn't respond. He wanted to trust these people, more than anything he did, but trust generally had a way of blowing up in his face. Besides, all they had done was show up, tell him they worked at some school he had never heard of, and that they wanted to help him. Still, it was more than most people had done for him in the past.

"Dominick, I think you misunderstand why we're here,"the Professor spoke up, as if reading his very thoughts. "My school caters do a different kind of gifted, like yourself and Scott here. My school is for mutants, young people with nowhere else to go and no one to turn to. We provide everything you need, as well as help you better understand your power, because it is through understanding that you earn control. I know you're a mutant, Dominick, even if you're not entirely sure. And I identify with your reluctance to accept our help. But I guarantee you, we are the real deal. I've already met with your public defender, and the judge handling your case. They've both agreed to release you to my care, with all charges effectively dropped."

Dominick immediately frowned. "What's the catch?"

"There is no catch. I desire only to help children like you, help to give you a leg to stand on. I will assure you that without my help, in our less than ideal law system, you will be convicted. And then you will be beyond my help. But this is your decision, and nobody else's. I recommend you think on it for a few days. We'll return the day after tomorrow, to see what you've decided."

He started to back away from the table, and it was only then that Dominick noticed he was confined to a wheelchair. Scott signalled the guard standing outside the door, and he returned to take Dominick back to his cell. But suddenly, anything seemed preferable to that hole. He didn't care how little they'd told him about their school, or how impulsive he was being, when he usually thought things through so intensely. He wanted so badly to go with them, and escape this hell, that his throat closed up momentarily, and when he called out to them, he sounded more like a frog than a felon.

The two men turned slowly, and regarded Dominick with varying looks of concern.

"I'll do it,"he blurted out. "I don't need to think about it. I'll go with you."

The Professor and his companion exchanged glances again, then both turned back to the young boy with wide smiles on their faces. Dominick noticed the relief in their eyes, and knew without doubt that despite the unknowns, he was making the right decision.

"I'll go meet with the judge,"the Professor said softly. "We'll come back for you later today."

A/N: Hope those few of you who read the first chapter like this one too. I'm embarrassed to say I'm developing a bit of a crush on Dominick Tucker, even though he's all in my mind. I have many visions for him in the coming chapters, and hopefully you will all follow them. Thanks for reading!


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